Rinse, refresh, repeat

When having doubts (even when they're not your own), turn up the music and clean something. Even if the doubt remains, the dirt won't stand a chance.
...

Perhaps it's a good thing that mom and dad have been monopolizing the computers at home tonight. Otherwise I would have been a slave to the screen, willing the pages to change their messages with each frantic refresh. Instead, it's been pen to paper (actually, pencil, since the ink ran dry and I needed to write) and the pages have just been flying. I feel like I just escaped.
...

The water pours down onto her head and over her body as she replays the conversations of the night, searching amongst the words for a clue--a hint. She finds nothing. She turns the shower off but remains a moment to linger in the warmth of the steam. She considers that topics could have been treacherous terrain, but nothing insurmountable.

Stepping out, she wraps herself in a towel and heads to change, still puzzling to herself, not able to shake the feeling of something awry. Adding up everything at face value, it was completely normal night; kiss hello, shared dinner, conversation, close proximities, held hands, ride home, and kiss goodbye with promises to see each other again soon. And yet the notion that his mind left halfway through dinner won't leave her.

Without any reasoning board other than herself, she decides to chalk it up to over-thought and hyper-active intuition. Despite her doubt, she trusts him and his reassurances; why shouldn't she?

It's nearly midnight when her phone rings.

    "Hello?"
    "Hey, sorry; I know it's late."
    "No worries--I was up."
    "I figured."
    "Yeah."
    "Still want to do drinks?"
    "Actually, yes, I do. I need to stop thinking."
    "Uh, sure."
    "I'll tell you about it when meet up. I just need to you tell me I'm crazy."
    "No problem. Be there soon. In the meantime--'you're crazy.'"
    "Thanks. See you."
    "Yep."
...

How is it that we can find water so cleansing even when that which we want to wash is intangible, like a feeling, a thought, or a dirty deed?

"Out, damned spot! out, I say! [...] What, will these hands ne’er be clean?"
    --Lady Macbeth, The Tragedy of Macbeth, Act V, Scene i

(Okay, so Lady Macbeth wasn't so lucky, but she immediately came to mind as I came up with that cleansing idea.)